When Jessie Fell
by Irene
Summary: Dealing with death and temporary insanity
1. Seconds off her life

I do NOT own the Quests and use them without permission.  All other characters do belong to me.

Quickly, Claire is an original character I made in Freeing The Angels.  She's a friend of Jessie and Jonny.  This takes place after The Brotherhood but before Be Still.  Confused?  It's okay.  It's only temporary.

I do have a web page.  Come by and visit.   I had a mini vacation and created some Quests skins for my SIMS.  Bored?  No.  Obsessed.  But I'm doing much better now.     

NOTE: I've intentionally created spacing for certain words.  There's a reason for this.

This is currently an unfinished piece.

**When Jessie Fell**

By 

Irene

            Claire was walking.  She was soaked straight through.  Layers of clothes clung to and were pasted on to her.  She looked up the street.  It was night.  The moon was full and not a cloud was in the sky.  Ice was on her skin but she kept walking.

            Truck

            Lights

            Rope

            Silence

            She was supposed to be somewhere.  Was that why she was walking?  The gravel cut her feet.  Where were her shoes?  Claire stopped and watched the wind whip through the trees.  She watched the silver covered branches heed to the breeze.  She noticed the world didn't make any sound.  She tried to clear her throat.  No sound would come.  She kept walking.

J E S S I E                                                               _S e c o n d s  d r a i n e d  y e a r s  o f f  h e r  l I f e_

             '_Be careful with yourself_.'  That's what they say to you.  What the hell does that mean?  Do I look like the type that would jump off a bridge?  Be careful.

              My best friend's body was found in a creek, but I'll be careful with myself.  So strange to say.  

                             RULE: Apostrophe to show possession.  C- l – a – i – r  _APOSTROPHE_ **_s_**  body.

            Unbelievable.

            What?  Oh- right.  The moment.  Dad told me.  Big manly man, tackle a bear, take a bullet . . . his voice cracked.  To tell the truth, I was sort of annoyed.  I was reading a Joyce Carol Oats interview and dad interrupted.

            Then he said it.  Can you believe that **I **_couldn't_ believe?  Stupid.  But I didn't.  Words like that shouldn't come out of my father's mouth.  

            "Claire has been murdered,"

            Seconds.  Seconds crawled across the floor and drained years of my life.  

            Nothing seeped in.  I was draining out.  

             I was involved in my reading, in schoolwork I had to finish and now I was gutted and nothing mattered.  Those few seconds ran up the wall and then crashed down on me.  It crushed my bones and sucked out all of my air.  My vision went.   Just briefly.  Like when you stand up to quickly, only I wasn't standing.  I was on the floor.

             "I'm so sorry Jessie,"

             That's what dad kept saying.  His words are still in my head.  I looked over to Jonny.  He didn't move.  He just looked at me.  Eyes glazed.  I wanted to shake him.  I wanted him to do something.  I wanted him to get angry.  I wanted him to lash out.  I wanted him throw something.  I wanted him to be more then _this_.

             He didn't do a thing.  He just sat there the seconds flowing around him and running off like rain.


	2. Don't touch the girl

J O N N Y                                                                    _D o n' t   t o u c h   t h e   g i r l_

             I was sitting on the floor tossing the ball for Bandit when Race came in.  I knew.  It was the shoulders, the eyes downcast.  I _knew_.

             Tonight the world had stopped.  Maybe it stopped around dinnertime or maybe earlier in the afternoon.  But sometime today it did stop.

              Jessie was absorbed in _The New Yorker_.  Her long red hair was hiding her face.  She didn't see Race and how he entered so  s h e  n e v e r  s a w  i t  c o m i n g.

              "Jess, Jonny, I have bad news.  They found a body.  It's Claire's. She was murdered."

              Punch to the gut.  A fist the size of my entire chest blindsided me.  I looked over to Jessie.  Her brow creased slightly and her eyes wandered the carpet.  Puzzle pieces were being forced together.  There was no way to mistake what Race had said.

              I looked over to Race.  He quietly walked to Jessie's side leaned down next to her.  I shook my head.  **Don't touch the girl.**

              I knew how this worked.  I'd been here before when dad told my about mom.  It's okay as long as you sit very still and don't do anything but breathe.  The world can stand still for you. As long as there are no outside forces, you can be safe and the world still has all of the important people in it.

              Race put his hand on her shoulder and the world crumbled.  Jessie dropped to the floor.  A rag doll.

              I knew this part too.

              Her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces and scattered across invisible plains.  You can't get all the pieces back.  I know.  

              I wanted to  t o u c h her.  She looked over to me.  Her eyes needed me to respond but I couldn't.  I realized at that moment the punch to gut had turned into a hole.  A quiet place without sound and I was drowning in it.  Up until this moment, I reserved this place for my mother and tucked it away.

              This I did not know.  I did not know it could ever hurt so deeply that my mother's ghost would have company.

              I stood up and walked past Race and Jessie.  I went to the study and picked up the phone.

              "Yes, I need to speak to Hadji, tell him it's his brother.  Just tell him he needs to come home."

              When I hung up the phone, I realized I was still holding on to Bandit's ball, my knuckles were white and my fingers were numb like ice


	3. The things to say

J e s s i e                                                                                          t h e  t h i n g s  t o  s a y 

            Do you mind if I have some water?  Thanks.

            Okay, so the night isn't one I can remember.  I _do_ remember flying into Missouri the next morning to meet with Claire's Grandma and Great Grandma.  The whole time we were in the air my stomach was turning.  Jonny and I had been to visit twice.  The first time was to help Claire move in and the second was spring break, we went ghost hunting.  It was so much fun.

             What? No, there's no reason to talk about that.  There's no reason to talk about it at all.

            Anyway, I kept seeing their faces, her grandma's that is.  I could only see her smiling and teasing Jonny that he was too small.  I couldn't imagine them any other way.  Then we landed and I started shaking.  I was shaking from the inside rattling.  I couldn't close myself up tight enough to make it stop.  

             Jonny touched my arm and it stunned me.  Goose bumps.  Jonny doesn't give me goose bumps.  It was all in his eyes.  I could see it the concern, the questions and the fear.

            He and I were suddenly in the same place.

            "I don't know what to say."  I spoke without thinking.  I don't do that, but it was honest.  Sometimes words escape me because they're bursting out from deep inside.  I just can't hold it back.

            Jonny pressed his forehead to mine.  I could actually see stubble on his cheeks and he smelled like soap.  Our moment.  It was nice.  I noticed the things I don't normally notice with my guy friends.  The things Claire probably knew about but she had a major crush on him for a while.  She probably saw a lot of things in Jonny and had an appreciation that I'm lacking _because_ we don't look at each other like that.  

            "Don't say anything."

            His breath was warm and I looked up at him.  Dr. Quest, his father, I saw him in Jonny just briefly.  The light went on in my mind and the corners of yesterday in quiet rooms just lit up.  They've been in this position before when Rachel was killed.  They knew what it was like to have someone come to them and basically say, "_Hey, your life as you know it, yeah, well that's over.  I'm sooo sorry_."

             Jonny knew.

            "What's going to happen now?"  Another comment escaping.

            "I'm not sure," he pulled away from me and took interest in his backpack.

            So, he doesn't know, or he doesn't want to talk about it.  I _know_ he was young.  I _know_ it hurts but this is new to me.  Why can't he give more?  Why can't he say what he remembers?  Why do I have to go through this blind?

            Sometimes being with Jonny makes me feel like I'm completely alone.  Why is that?


	4. Wearing her mask

J O N N Y                                                 W E A R I N G  H E R  M A S K 

        "Grace," Dad hugged the woman and she disappeared inside his chest.  Sobs escaped her, shoulders shook violently.  

        "Drowned my baby!  Drowned her and left her there!"  Her sobs were piercing daggers shooting us one by one.  I looked at Jessie, I was prepared for another breatk down.  This time I would be the one to touch her.   I would do what I should have done.  Jessie did not fall down.  She fell in.  She reached over and mechanically hugged Grace completing the circle.

         Grace recovered and emerged a little older.  She rubbed the palms of her hands down her jeans and smiled despite the water in her eyes

          "My, my, my," she mumbled breathless.  "What the world throws at us."

          I watched Claire's grandma place Jessie's hand inside her own.  Grace was shaking badly and I wondered who brought her there.

           "I'm parked in the third garage.  I found a real nice spot."

          There it was.  She drove herself.  I couldn't believe it.  It wasn't right.

           "I'm driving Grace," Race jumped in.  He found a cart and loaded our bags.

           I watch her.  Jessie.  I watch her all the time.  I know when she's about to take a hard right on a bike.  I know when she eats something she doesn't like but she'll eat it anyway, with a lot of water.  I know when she's hurt by something by the way her brow falls forward.

             "Thank you Race," Grace wearily lead us away.

              I know when Jessie wants to say something but good manners prevents her from doing so.  All this I know in a heartbeat.

              "You're all staying with us of course," Grace threw over her shoulder as she patted Jessie's hand.  "We have plenty of food."

            I smiled.  I was still full from the last visit.  Dad agreed with a nod and we went through the double doors to the outside.  

            "My, my, my," she mumbled as she blinked under the sun.  "Doesn't seem right that the day should be so bright and pretty."

             "It's nice to have a little sun," Jessie whispered gently to her.  Grace smiled and patted her fingers again. "It will be okay Grace. It will."

              I knew it then.  The polite comment.  The small silver lining.  Jessie smiled and squeezed Grace's hand.  It was another completed circle and I knew for certain.  Jessie was wearing her mask.  The mask of calm and cool.  The mask that allowed her to take care of other people.

               Maybe there's something wrong with me.  I mean, is that so bad?  We lost our friend but Grace lost her granddaughter, practically a daughter and I'm focusing on Jessie wanting to be strong for her.

                No, that isn't it.  When we got in the car, Grace sat between Jessie and myself still holding her hand.  There was something in Jessie I didn't recognize.  A decision being made.  A page turning.  I realized it that precise moment.  I didn't recognize Jessie Bannon.  I didn't know this mask.  And I _thought _I'd seen all of them.

            Race eyed me in the rear view mirror.  I wondered if he caught it too.  I wondered if bracing myself was all I could do.  Maybe this cold polite new mask wasn't coming off.


	5. Claire's Ghost

 S H E  W A S N' T  R I G H T

        Claire stopped.  The world was clearing up . . . inside her mind.  She knew something wasn't right.  She knew _she_ wasn't right.  

        Something had happened.  Something had happened to her.

        She started taking small careful steps.  Gravel road was starting to cut the bottom of her feet.  A rope was around her neck and it had rubbed her raw.  Her dress was wet and dirty.  

        More small steps.

        Where were her shoes?

        She touched her face and ran her fingers through her knotted wet hair.  She should get help.  She should find someone.  She should . . . 

        Where were her shoes?

        More small steps.  The sun was setting.

        J e s s i e                                                                                  C L A I R E'S  G H O S T

        Grandma fell asleep, or she was just sitting very still with her eyes closed.  I pressed my head to the windshield.  I never do that, it's disgusting.  But I am . . . scattered, a piece here a chunk there . . .  I am existing somewhere in between.

        Close eyes.  Enough drama.

        The first sign.  I felt my first drop when we were driving to the home place.  The drive was an all day trip.  The telephone wire ran along side the car.  Out in the Ozark hills the roll of autumn turning trees vastly spread around, hiding houses, animals and side streets.  We passed a hidden gravel road I could not recall from our previous visits and I heard her.

        Shakes head.  Not a ghost or imaginary.  Just a sigh.  It _was_ Claire.  I looked over to grandma and she had her head on Jonny's shoulder.  He looked over to me and waited.  Still waiting.  I moved up to dad and leaned into his shoulder.

        "What is it ponchita?"

        "I have to go there,"

        "Where?"

        "To the place, the place the found Claire.  I have to go there."

        Dad stiffened and didn't respond.  I knew he heard me.  We had to look for clues.  We had to go to the site and search for answers.  We had to get started as soon a possible.  24hrs had gone by.  The more minutes that passed the more time the killer has to put distance between us.

        "Dad?"

        "Yes Jess, later,"

        I sat back.  We would find Claire.  I would find her and find who did this.  I was boiling, a slow hot simmer itching to get started.  But I'm not crazy and I knew the value of patience.  I would wait for later. 

        Outside the car the sun was setting and the hills were a beautiful blaze.  The telephone wire still ran along side the car.    


End file.
